Requiem
by The Great ShiniGami
Summary: Another installment in the Music Collection. The Outer Senshi struck with a crisis… I’m not good with summaries, and I don’t want to give that much away… Very angsty, and of course hinted HotaruChibi-usa. Enjoy. Rated for character death.


**Requiem**

**By The Great ShiniGami**

Disclaimer: I don't own the series, the characters, or anything else. You know the drill. Also, this is really sad. Just warning you… -S

Michiru sat silently in utter disbelief at the news that Setsuna brought with her from the hospital. How could something like this have slipped through the cracks, and gone unnoticed for so long? Wasn't there something they could do? Japan had the world's finest medical technology, and better sanitary conditions. How could this happen? Michi berated herself silently, while Setsuna stood from the large, high backed, red armchair that sat in their living room.

"It's not a disease of the body, but a sickness of the soul. She's going to die…" Setsuna said regretfully. She never got to finish her statement, for Michiru rose out of her seat, and promptly slapped Setsuna across the face. It was the first time that Michiru had _actually_ hit one of them, for anything. A reddened handprint started to show over Setsuna's well tanned skin, small tears coming from her crimson eyes as well.

"_Don't say that_!" Michiru shouted. Haruka sat on the love seat where Michiru had once accompanied her still in shock of the event. Hotaru was a good kid; it wasn't her fault that she was a little sickly. Haruka had heard that her mother had been ill a lot, but she never thought that Hotaru would get this bad. Dying… how would they cope? She was like their child. One they could never have… Haruka sighed as she began to tear up, her grief only a measure of what Michiru was dealing with.

"She wants to see you, Michi… Before she leaves…" Setsuna stopped, and fell back into her chair, unable to speak anymore. Michi stood stock still in anxiety, but gathered herself up, and started up the stairs of their house. She reached the door, the doorknob looking like something from the pit of hell, her hand shirking from it. Would she be able to look at her in her current state? Michi didn't want to see that. Didn't want to see her daughter die. The bitter-spicy taste of worry, mixed with the salty tang of her tears filled her mouth, even though it was dry as bleached bone. 'Not the best of references in this case' she thought. Michiru heard a small, weak cough from behind the door, as well as some soft music. Her daughter needed her, and if the sight was one that would haunt her behind her eyelids forever, then so be it. Michi turned the brass doorknob slightly, and opened the door. Her graceful hands glided off of the metal, as she shut the door behind her. Her tears intensified at the scene she had walked into.

Hotaru's room was like normal, the many lamps she had were dimly lighting the room, and her stereo was playing softly in the background of the room. "_The Real Folk Blues"_ was what it sounded like. 'Yoko Kanno was always one of her favorites…' Michiru thought. The white carpet was visible under some of her things. Dolls lined the window, which was closed, and a space was between two of the plush figures. Hotaru coughed again, and a gurgling sound accompanied it. Michiru turned to face her daughter, the small girl sitting propped by several lacy pillows on her ornate bed.

"Michiru-mama…" Hotaru said hoarsely. Her small lavender nightgown was stained with the blood from her coughing, as it clung to her petite form. Michiru made her way over to the bed, and sat down beside Hotaru, placing her hand on her shoulder. "What is it, dear?" Michi replied, her voice cracking in between sobs. She looked so pitiful, as if life was a curse, rather than a blessing. Death would be a release… Michiru mentally slapped herself for thinking such things. Hotaru was going to get better. She was going to get well, and they were going to be happy.

"Is it always this painful? Dying…?" Hotaru asked her mother. She coughed again, more blood coming up. The crimson fluid ran down the corners of her mouth, contrasting her pale, ashen skin. Her lavender eyes were glassy, and half closed, the effort to open them and hold her head up, almost futile. A small voice within her pleaded, _cajoled_ even to get Hotaru to let go, and die. To give in, and rest. She redoubled her effort to cling to what little life she had left, as the pain inside her doubled as well. She gave out a small cry, her lungs beginning to fill with blood once more. She wanted to sleep…

"It isn't always like this. It only hurts for a little while, then you feel a rushing, and then there are rolling hills, tall grass, and mist. The sun rises fast, and the air is as crisp as a winter morning. The souls of fallen Samurai wander, willing to tell their tales, if you care to listen. Each day is an age, as all feeling leaves you, and you wait, until you are meant to live again." Michiru replied, recalling the events after her death at the hands of Galaxia in the Senshi's final battle.

Hotaru smiled a little and coughed again, twice this time, bringing up more Vitae to fall across her gossamer nightdress. "I just wish I could stay a little longer… Tell Chibi-usa-chan, I'll be waiting…" She said, her head falling forward slightly, her breathing becoming a bit more labored. Hotaru's heart started to slow, the beating becoming less intense. The pain dulled, as the voice inside her cried out for her to let go of the rest. She held on, sensing that Michiru had more to say.

"It isn't how long we have, Hime-chan. It's what we do with the time that is given to us." Michiru said, hoping that would help her, "You've done a lot of good things. I know that you'll get another chance…" She finished, tears flooding her eyes, and rendering her speechless. That apparently was what Hotaru needed to hear, as she drew a breath, and sighed. "That's good to know… I love you… Michiru-mama…" She said as she breathed her last, and fell forward into Michiru's waiting arms. Michi held her close, crying into her black hair, as she felt the life seep out of her daughter's small body. She went limp, and Michi still held her close, her face still buried in her hair…

Hotaru stood beside her bed, watching the scene with regret. She didn't want to die, but it was time to go. She looked back on the things that she was going miss, but those were far outnumbered by the good that she had done. She sighed once more, though Michiru was unable to hear it. Someone else was, however.

"Come along child. We have along way to go before you can restart your journey." A voice, deep and calm called from behind her. She turned around, and saw a man in a black cloak, holding a scythe seated at her window, between some of her stuffed animals. "Shinigami…" She said, as the man stretched forth his hand.

Michiru jumped slightly as the window burst open, the wind coming in and blowing around several loose papers on Hotaru's old desk. The curtains billowed with the wind, the unnatural gust serving more of a symbolic purpose. Michiru situated Hotaru's limp body, laying her small corpse down on the bed, and placing her hands crossed over her chest. Michi then went over to close the window. As she placed her hands on the shutters, she thought she heard a small, familiar voice call out from the moonlit night.

"Bye, Michiru-mama! I love you!"…

_Fin…_


End file.
